


How to Find Severus Snape

by SeverusSnep



Series: How to Find Severus Snape [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, I know there's a lot of tags lol, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Poison, Poisoning, Post-War, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Social Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverusSnep/pseuds/SeverusSnep
Summary: Severus Snape has resigned himself to a dark fate. Death is the only thing that he thinks can ease his suffering mind, but what happens when a former student gets in the way? Could living really be worth it? Can his life be saved?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: How to Find Severus Snape [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996270
Comments: 86
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

Severus stared blankly at the vial in his hands. Its contents were pale green and of a fairly thin viscosity. He wasn’t quite sure what the taste would be; all he hoped was that it wasn’t too horrible. He was interrupted by the sound of his classroom door being opened. He tucked the vial firmly into his pocket and quickly made his way out of his private laboratory and into the classroom to see who had come to bother him. He wasn’t surprised by who he saw.

“Miss Granger, what do you want?” He drawled, entirely vexed by her interruption.

“Sir, Professor Flitwick asked to see you,” she replied, not as thrown by his tone as he would have liked.

“He couldn’t tell me this himself?” He sneered.

“Well… no, he asked for you and he couldn’t come get you himself…” she explained. 

He grumbled something inaudible to her about disturbing him, but he followed her out of his classroom anyway. They walked at a smooth pace, and it wasn’t until they passed the hallway that leads to Filius’ office that he suspected something.

“Granger,” he complained, “I think you missed a turn.”

“Oh, he’s not in his office. He’s this way,” she clarified.

He still didn’t fully trust whatever was happening. What could Filius possibly need from him? He wished to be back in his classroom. She opened the door to the staff room, and he was stuck between wanting to run and vomit. He settled for an uneasy grimace.

“Surprise!” they all yelled in unison. He turned to Granger and whispered,

“You have betrayed me, I will not forgive you.”

She gave him a look that apologized and said she didn’t have a choice. He reluctantly entered the staff room where he was bombarded with noise and chatter, but what made him cringe was that it was all directed at him. He felt a hand clap onto his shoulder and he practically jumped. That didn’t deter the owner of the hand. He was surrounded. He felt like he was on the battlefield again. It was loud, he didn’t want to be there, and everyone expected something from him. He would have given anything to become a ghost so he could fall through the floor. He briefly wondered what was under the staff room before he was shaken out of his thoughts - literally. Someone had taken his hand and was shaking it, saying something about how it had been a pleasure to work with him. Did they mistake him for someone else? No one ever said his name and the word ‘pleasure’ in the same sentence. Everything was a blur, he Occluded to keep himself from running. Why did they have to do this? It wasn’t for him, no matter how hard they tried to make it seem like it was. If they knew him at all, in the slightest, they would have known that the mere sight of this would make him sick. This was for them, so they wouldn’t feel guilty about his leaving. He didn’t owe that to them. Let them feel guilty. They had nearly abandoned him anyway when he had been forced into the stint that was ‘Headmaster.’ He wondered how long it would take them to figure it out.

He left without a word. They were all too busy congratulating him to notice. He had slowly backed himself to the wall and slipped out. The only one who noticed was Granger. She had kept her eyes on him the entire time. He hoped she wouldn’t say anything. The hallway was infinitely more quiet. For once he was relieved to be stuck with his own thoughts. Anything over their cacophonous yammering.

He tensed at the sound of soft footsteps following him. He spun around to tell off whoever was trying to persuade him to come back. Instead, Granger stood a few meters away looking incredibly regretful.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I knew you wouldn’t like it. I tried to tell them…”

“Yet you dragged me there anyway,” he countered.

“I— I’m sorry.” She had appeared to rethink whatever she had been about to say.

He surprised himself by not only believing her, but feeling a bit bad for her himself. At least she knew him well enough to understand that that entire ordeal was heinous to him. He gave her a curt nod and continued walking back to his quarters. He’d be leaving soon, that was what mattered. No one to bother him. No one to talk to him. No one to touch him unexpectedly. No one to even think of him. What paradise that would be. The footsteps behind him also continued, that was his next problem.

“What do you want, Granger?” he growled without turning around.

“Sir, I just have something I wanted to give to you,” she confessed.

She walked around to face him and held out a potion. Felix fucking Felicis. Why on Earth was she giving him that?

“What… in the hell… is that for, Granger?” He asked, not caring to suppress how irritated he was. 

“Erm… it’s for you,” she affirmed.

“You’ve made that clear, but that does not answer my question,” he spat, “ _ what _ , pray tell, do you think I need this for?”

“Oh! No, I didn’t mean that you needed it for anything,” she babbled,”I made it myself. I’ve been practicing… I didn’t know what to get you, but then I thought you might not want a gift… I just…” her face dropped, his negative aura seemed to finally have gotten to her. “I just wanted you to know that I appreciated having you as my teacher… even though you weren’t the one to teach me about this potion, I know it’s hard to make. I wasn’t very good with it in school, but you made me want to get better. I guess this is my way of thanking you…” she held out the potion for him with renewed effort.

Something prickled behind his eyes. He hadn’t expected this. He kept his mask of Occlumency perfectly in place, not letting go of the slightest hint of how touched he was by this. 

“That’s very thoughtful, Granger… thank you,” he replied, suddenly feeling a tad remorseful over how harsh he had been with her. She gave him a weak smile,

“If anyone asks where you are, I’ll say you had a potion-related emergency,” she pledged, not giving him time to say anything else before returning to the Snape-less party.

He wondered when she had come to know him better than his own colleagues. He truly was touched by her gift. It did look rather perfect. He knew she certainly wouldn’t lie about making it. He was glad that she had caught on, in some way, as to his true intention behind the pushing of all of his students. He wanted to push them to do better. It wasn’t all that often when one came back to tell him it had worked. He let a smile come to his face as he found his way back to his rooms.

Perhaps he could stick around just a little longer, if not at least to apologize to Granger. That seemed like the right thing to do. Now was the next conundrum: she had returned to the party, and he’d rather pass on than go back there. Thankfully, he didn’t have to think about it for too long. His office door was slowly opened and closed, and Granger was more than startled when she turned around to find him sitting at his desk, staring at her expectantly. 

“Oh, sir.” She caught her breath, “sorry, I figured I’d find you here… I hate everyone,” she blurted. This made him smirk.

“Welcome to the club.” He motioned for her to sit down, “Now, what has brought you to such a cynical conclusion?”

“I went back to do some damage control. I figured everyone would be asking where you went. I was all prepared to tell them to sod off—er, well not really, but that you had more pressing matters to tend to, but they—…” she paused.

“Didn’t notice,” he finished it for her.

“But why? It was  _ for you  _ and—“ he cut her off.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Granger. It never was  _ for me _ as nice as that may sound, but that’s exactly the point. It was for them, so they would feel better. If any of them had thought about it for more than a minute—“ she cut  _ him  _ off.

“They never should have had it in the first place, if they were actually thinking about what you wanted.”

“There you go,” he commended, “but I don’t blame them for it. Merlin knows they all needed it. Which now leaves me to do what I do best,” he divulged.

“Which is?” She asked.

“Leave without a trace, entirely unnoticed.” He spent his time enunciating each word.

“Well, I noticed…” A frown had started to form on her face.

“And if I’ve learned anything today,” he remarked,”it’s that perhaps you are the one person to whom I wouldn’t mind actually saying goodbye; before I apologize, that is.” He was resolute in his words, and it showed on his face. He watched her face brighten slightly, but then become confused.

“Apologize? Sir, I think it’s me that should—“

“Nonsense, Granger. During the time that I was your teacher, I was exceptionally harsh with you. That, I cannot undo, but I am sorry for it. The circumstances surrounding your school years were nothing short of desperate, but I don’t mean to excuse my actions in saying so. My point is, despite everything... I am proud of you.” He stood up and noticed the tears welling in her eyes, “And this is where we part. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, Miss Granger.”

“Sir, I—… thank you, for everything. I don’t know if you’ll believe me when I say this, but I’m going to miss you… I hope you get to do what makes you happy, whatever that is. Merlin knows you deserve it.” She extended her hand to him.

He shook it before returning to his office that was currently in boxes around the room. With a sharp flick of his wand, the boxes shrunk and gathered themselves into a bag that he slung over his shoulder. He gave her a nod before leaving what was now someone else’s office.  _ Good riddance. _ He didn’t look back, or else he would have seen the tears that slowly streamed down her face. A good thing too, or else he might have stayed.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

He Apparated to his house; he wouldn’t call it a home, despite it being all that he’d ever known. At the very least, it was familiar. That would do. He set his bag down and went to sit in his usual armchair. He couldn’t believe the damned thing had outlived Albus Dumbledore. 

_ And it’ll outlive me as well _ , he thought.

The vial felt like a boulder in his pocket, nagging at him. Perhaps he ought to take it now. He thought better of it. Something to eat first. No matter how much he had cooked in that kitchen since he became its owner, it seemed as though it was always fated to seem empty and hungry. It felt the same way as he dug around for something to fill his aching stomach. He couldn’t remember the last thing he had eaten. What was one supposed to eat for a last meal anyway? That’s what this was going to be, right? There would be no one to come looking for him after he swallowed the liquid freedom inside that vial. They all knew he was leaving, and none of them knew where he lived, save Hagrid. He had already said goodbye to Hagrid, and it had been the closest to tears he had come in a very long time.

He would finally be at rest— if he could just find some damned food to eat. Maybe this wasn’t the right time. This feeling perched itself on his shoulder and refused to leave. Maybe… maybe what? Hadn’t he been through enough? Did he not deserve a little peace and quiet? He stalked back to the armchair and sat down grimly, wondering how many more times he could sit down in it before it too, gave up. 

He was completely unaware of what was going on back at the castle. As it turns out, Hermione had not been so keen on saying goodbye to her former potions professor. She had stormed out of the castle and down to Hagrid’s, where she found him sobbing at his table.

* * *

“Hagrid?” She asked gently, “What’s wrong?”

She had a hard time understanding him through his tears, but she found out that Snape had come to say goodbye to Hagrid, and he wasn’t taking it very well. She didn’t understand why he seemed to think they couldn’t stay in touch, so she asked what she assumed would be a useless question.

“Hagrid, do you think there’s any way I could find out Snape’s address?  _ I  _ don’t think you ought to lose contact, really, and I would like to owl him…”

“Well of course I know his address,” he admitted before he realized what he’d done, “haven’t visited in years though…” his sobs cut off his own words.

She certainly hadn’t expected Hagrid to know where Snape lived, let alone have visited before, but the timing of this knowledge couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Hagrid? Could you tell me where he lives?” She tried to sound as though she were asking anything other than for the address of a former professor. She was now starting to get the suspicion that something was rather wrong. If Hagrid knew where Snape lived, then why did he think they wouldn’t be in contact again? She wanted to find out for herself.

“Oh, I’ll never forget that last little house on Spinner’s End,” he cried.

She knew Hagrid was a lost cause now. She gave him a hug that only made him cry harder, and then she left. She repeated the words over and over in her mind. She had no idea where Spinner’s End was, but she was going to find out. First and foremost, she needed to make sure that Snape was okay, and then she was going to tell him that he at least needed to tell Hagrid where he was moving. She wasn’t going to spare him the dismal details of Hagrid crying at his table over the loss of (what she then understood him to be) his friend. 

She Apparated to Hogsmeade and went to the first place she could think of. It wasn’t a library, but she didn’t think she’d find a book called,  _ How to Find Severus Snape _ . The Hogsmeade Post Office would have to do. She marched determinedly to where the Postmaster sat. He greeted her in what she assumed, from the sound of his voice, was the same way he greeted everyone.

“Hello, I need to find an address. Well, I need to Apparate, actually, but I haven’t been there before. Could you help me?”

“You do realize that you just asked me to do for free what I charge and have these owls do?” He responded, clearly not enthralled by her request.

She let out a loud breath before digging in her pockets. She did not lightly place down twice the amount to send the biggest owl he had across the country.

“Now can you help me? It’s urgent.” She didn’t bother with a polite smile.

The older wizard smirked, clearly surprised by the amount of money she was willing to pay to get directions.

“Spinner’s End you say?” His lip quirked up, and he bent behind his counter and came back up with a large scroll of very aged parchment.

He opened it over the counter and she saw that it was actually quite an extensive map, and there were little moving symbols. He noticed her amazement.

“Not often I have to bring this out. Only for the places I haven’t heard of,” he admitted, “do you know where this Spinner’s End is?” He asked.

“Erm… not really,” she confessed. He sighed rather audibly. “I think it must be in England somewhere…” she wasn’t sure that would help, but he seemed to think so. She watched him palace his wand over the map and speak,

“Spinner’s End, England.”

She watched as the lines on the map moved and morphed themselves into an entirely different shape. She watched the ink disappear and reappear to form the word, “Cokeworth” at the top.

“Ah, Cokeworth eh? Sure that’s where you want to be going, Miss?” He seemed to think Cokeworth was no place for her, but she knew she’d soon figure out why.

“Yes, very sure,” she assured.

He showed her one of the many straight, narrow streets that made up the very bland and organized map that was Cokeworth. It was quite different from all of the twists and turns in Hogsmeade.

“That there is Spinner’s End. You can see the mill over here,” he pointed toward the other end of the street. He wordlessly charmed the parchment to show a picture of the street, the mill still visible from the vantage point of the road. “You said you need to Apparate?” His voice lilted to one of concern.

“Yes…” she replied, a bit unsure now that she saw what she was in for. She hadn’t expected him to be able to be of this much help, but she was grateful for it. 

“Miss,” he addressed her, “If you are quite certain that this is where you mean to Apparate, I would advise you not to.”

“Why?” she questioned.

“First of all, that’s quite a distance to Apparate, even for an accomplished witch, but this town… Well, I hadn’t heard of Spinner’s End before, but I didn’t need to. You ought to have eyes on the back of your head if you mean to step foot in Cokeworth. I’d tell that to anyone,” he warned.

She wished she could have been more surprised that Snape lived there. It would make a little more of his  _ personality _ make sense.

“I need to,” was all she could think to say.

The wizard sighed, resigned.

“That’s your choice, but be careful,” he advised as he used another spell to show her an image of Spinner’s End from what would have been eye level, “Focus on something you see here. Study it. And pray to Merlin you don’t splinch yourself,” he finished bleakly.

She nodded, trying to find confidence in herself. She studied the picture, imagining herself there. She focused on the sign that read the street name. She steadied herself, gripped her wand, and prayed to Merlin.

There was a slight  _ pop _ and the next thing she knew, Hermione was stumbling over herself in a dirty street. She patted herself over, not splinched.  _ Thank Merlin. _ She saw the street sign, half broken, in front of her. She looked up and saw the mill, the air was thick and heavy with something that tasted bitter and she had to stop herself from coughing. What the hell was Snape doing here? She remembered what Hagrid had said, “that last little house”. The mill was a straight shot all the way down the road, but she had a feeling that his house would be on the other end, farther away from the mill, farther away from everything. 

She walked as swiftly as she could, but she wasn’t so sure why the Postmaster had warned her about being careful. There didn’t seem to be anyone here. It looked somewhat like a war zone from fifty years ago that never got cleaned up. Despite her doubts, she could understand why she was warned to not come here in the first place. It certainly didn’t seem like the kind of place one voluntarily chose to be. She stopped at the end of the street, seeing the desolate and dilapidated two-up two-down house before her own eyes. She stepped closer and noticed what seemed to be an infinitesimal amount of light coming from somewhere in the house. 

She wondered if she should even knock on the door. Not that she would let herself in, but there was something about this place that made her uneasy. She wondered what it had seen. Poor thing. She placed her palm against the door, wondering how many times Snape had done the same. He really lived here? She had only seen him at the school, taking up as much residence in his office as she would assume a home. She was now uncomfortably aware that she was standing outside of a teacher’s house. It didn’t seem like the sort of place where anyone would live. There was no use putting off the inevitable.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The vial was pressed against Severus’ lips when he nearly spilled it all down his front. There had been a knock at the door. The neighbors had either gotten old and died or had the good sense to leave when they could. No one lived here anymore except for some drifters he occasionally saw. Then who in the hell was knocking? He quickly realized it had to be someone who knew him, because they knew where he lived. _Hagrid_? No one would knock otherwise. No one _should_ be knocking. Who in their right mind would even dare?

These questions were to be quickly answered. He stood to go tell whoever it was to sod off and leave him be. He was not prepared; however, to open his door and see a timid Hermione Granger standing before him. Panic. He hadn’t felt it in a while, but it flooded his body. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her inside before he poked his head outside, looked around, and then closed the door. She let out a yelp.

“Were you seen?” he hissed.

“W-What?” she stammered, obviously thrown off.

“Were… you… seen?” he repeated.

“I don’t think so…” she answered.

“What the  _ hell  _ are you doing here? How did you even find me?” he asked, bewildered and fuming.

“I— you can’t just—… Hagrid was sobbing and I—sir, I couldn’t help but think something was wrong,” she gained her composure, “Hagrid seemed to think he wouldn’t see you again, but then he admitted that he knew where you lived, on accident of course, so I went to the post office and the Postmaster had this  _ brilliant _ map— that’s not the point. You need to tell Hagrid where you’re moving so he can at least owl you, and I was worried that you’d be leaving right away so all I could think to do was find you…” She seemed to have finished.

He couldn’t find it within himself to be any more surprised that she had managed to find him. Hagrid did have an aptitude to say exactly what came to his mind; and of course she’d be able to Apparate over such a distance. He still wasn’t sure how she could, obviously never having been here before. He figured that was where the “ _ brilliant _ ” map came into play. Thankfully she seemed to think he was moving, that much could be believable. He should have moved a long time ago, but there was never much time or opportunity for that sort of thing. Not to mention finance. All he had to do was lie and send her on her way.

“Granger, not that you have  _ any _ business being here, but I’m quite capable of handling my own affairs. I’ll see to it that what needs to be done,  _ is  _ done.” He didn’t mean owling Hagrid.

“Good,” she spoke, but seemed expectant.

“Then I suggest you leave, Granger, and do  _ not _ come back. Or else you will have a much larger problem than my temper,” he warned.

“But you haven’t owled Hagrid,” she reminded.

“I don’t remember needing your supervision,” he sneered.

“As much as I might trust you, I don’t intend to return to Hagrid in the hope that you’ll owl him. Besides, you never actually said you would, which leads me to believe you’re trying to Slytherin your way out of it,” she concluded. She was a clever witch, but he would argue that he was even more so.

“Fine,” he played along. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill and scratched out a random address and folded the parchment.

“Happy?” he mocked.

“Let me see it,” she urged.

“I don’t fancy giving you my address, Granger,” he retorted.

“Well then only show me part of it. I want proof that you wrote down an actual address,” she stated. He rolled his eyes at her and unfolded the parchment, only showing her the fabricated street name.

“Right then,” she seemed fairly content.

“Are you done babysitting me then?” he challenged.

“You haven’t even _sent_ it!” she objected. “I’m not stupid,” she criticized. No, she was certainly not stupid. Maybe he had underestimated how easily she’d be placated.

“My bird is currently out,” he countered.

“Will you send it when your bird returns?” She was determined to get a straight answer out of him.

“Yes,” he lied through his teeth.

“Do you promise?” She seemed to know exactly what she was doing. He didn’t owe her this.

“No,” he replied honestly. She was clearly not expecting his answer.

“Oh. Well… thank you for being honest with me…” she frowned, “but I need to make sure…”

“Make sure that I am still being plagued with obligation even in my own house? Because if so, job well done, Granger,” he retaliated.

She blushed a bright ruby red at his words, but then her face twisted into a rather cross expression.

“I will gladly leave you alone and never bother you again if you _just_ owl him. The fact that you won’t is what worries me, and makes me wonder why exactly Hagrid thought he wasn’t going to see you again. So either you owl him, or you tell me the truth about why you won’t. Then you’ll never have to see me again.” She seemed determined, and that would not do.

“Tea?” he offered.

“What— that’s not—“ she started.

“You were incorrect to think that you would be negotiating the terms of my honesty. You have two options. You can stay and have tea, or leave. If you make this difficult, you can be certain that I will hex you out that door,” he declared, deadly serious. He saw her swallow out of uncomfortableness. 

“Okay. Just tea?” She inquired.

“Oh, but there is a catch, Miss Granger,” he assured.

“What is it?”

“I’m poisoning one of the cups,” he stated gravely. He wondered if she’d believe him, or if this would be enough to scare her off and leave him alone.

“Snape! That’s not funny,” she reprimanded, looking delightfully scandalized. He stepped toward her to whisper in her ear,

“I’m not  _ being _ funny,” he vowed.

“Why would you do that?” she interrogated. “That’s very serious.”

“So am I.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Simple. If  _ you _ drink it, I don’t have to answer these inane questions. If  _ I  _ drink it, I get some goddamned peace and quiet.”

“Do you really think I’d believe that you’d poison me? Or that I’d let you poison yourself?” she asked incredulously.

“Keep pushing my buttons and you’ll find out, Granger.”

“Fine,” she snapped. His eyebrow shot up, she couldn’t be serious. He started making the tea and she stood in the kitchen with him.

“You can leave at any time, mind you,” he added.

“I know, I intend to see this through.”

She was bluffing. He knew it. She would never go through with it, he was sure of that. He finished making the tea and took out two tea cups. He poured equal amounts of tea in both. He took out the vial and her eyes went wide with disbelief. 

“Close your eyes,” he directed. She did as he said. “Cover them,” he added. She did.

He silently took a sip out of his cup before pouring in the contents of the vial. She would drink from hers, he would see to that.

“Okay,” he announced. She opened her eyes and he raised his eyebrow slightly at her while she examined the cups. He made sure they would both still be level. The trick would be to get her out of the house while he was still alive. She looked him dead in the eyes and downed her cup in a few large gulps. Before he had a chance to stop her, she took hold of his cup.

“Granger!” He tried to stop her. 

Was she insane? He stepped forward to cover her mouth with his hand, but in a second he realized that she had dumped his tea into the sink. Relief washed over him, but then the anger started to bubble up. How did she simply assume he wouldn’t have put it in her cup? He supposed she really did know that he wouldn’t do that to her. Either way, she had just sent his escape down the drain.. Most other poisons would leave someone writhing in pain. He had made that one specially. He would have simply fallen asleep and been entirely unaware as it killed him.

“What the _hell_ , Granger?” he roared.

She was distracted from him by something in the sink, but her eyes snapped back to him.

“Me!” She yelled, “You! You put fucking _poison_ in your cup! Look!”

He looked into the sink to see that it had already started to eat away at everything it touched. Even the tea cup had cracked. He couldn’t help but wonder morbidly what it would have done to _him_. He was seething silently, but it quickly turned into something else entirely when she started crying and pressed herself into his arms. 

“Please don’t,” she begged, “whatever it is that you were going to do... please don’t…” she sobbed into him. He didn’t have a clue what to do in this situation, so he did the best he could think of. He wrapped his arms around her and did the stupidest thing he could have,

“I won’t, I promise.”

Why he said it, he wouldn’t ever figure out. He would also never figure out why in that moment she decided to get up on her toes and kiss his cheek. He’d never forget the blush that he couldn’t stop from crossing his face, nor her smile that accompanied it when she saw.

“Come home with me,” she instructed.

“Pardon me?” He was shocked.

“You’re not staying here alone,  _ I  _ don’t want you staying here by yourself. I have a spare bedroom, you’ll stay there.” She must have understood the look on his face because she continued, “Snape, I’m not taking no for an answer. Please. I’ll leave you be, just come with me.”

“No.”

“I live in a secluded area.”

“No.”

“I bake a lot, you can have anything you want.”

“No.”

“I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.”

“I have a porch out back, it’s quiet and peaceful and you can see the vegetable patch and the flowers.”

“No.”

“I have a lab that you can use. Well stocked, I just don’t use it enough. It'll be all yours."

“Fine.”

She hugged him again and he stayed completely still, a bit numb to what was going on around him.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“One rule.”

“What?” She asked.

“No talking.”

He waited for a moment, and she just stared at him and waited with her hand outstretched.

“Thank you,” he whispered before silently summoning his bag and taking her hand. 


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione Apparated herself and Snape to a plain yet sweet looking cottage. He didn’t know how far away they were, but he wasn't about to break his own rule. She went in first and waited for him to follow, and he did. He looked around and it found that it really was quite nice. It was simple, but it appeared to have been loved. Not in a run-down way, but it showed. There were a couple of quilts that were draped over the sofa. A pair of slippers next to an armchair. The table beside the armchair was home to a small stack of books and a pair of glasses. He didn’t know she wore glasses. 

She was waiting for him when he looked at her again. He followed her down a short hallway. At the end of it was what appeared to be where she intended for him to stay. She reached her hand out again but toward his bag this time. He didn’t want to simply hand it over. She smiled and pointed to the top of a chest at the end of the bed. He put his bag on top of it and she waved for him to follow her. He obliged, it was the least he could do considering her hospitality. He didn’t know how long she intended to let him stay, but he figured they’d come to that at some point.

All she did was point out the loo, the kitchen, the laundry room, and then her lab. He was rather impressed with the lab. It was better than he had imagined. He wondered what was upstairs, but he figured he needn’t go because she hadn’t pointed it out. That was, until she did and he noticed that she was halfway up the stairs while beckoning him to follow. There were two more rooms. She opened one door and it was a beautiful extension of her library. The walls were completely taken up by bookshelves. There were a few comfortable looking chairs and another small table. She opened the door to the other room and it looked almost identical in terms of bookshelves, but this room had a sofa that had been rolled out to the size of a bed. It looked much more used than the other room. He hoped he would get to explore the differences. She went back downstairs and waited for him. She gave him a smile and a quick thumbs up. He figured this meant she was done. 

He went back to the room that was to be “his” for a while. He didn’t _want_ to refer to it as such, even to himself, because he didn’t want to get too comfortable with it. He had to admit, he did like her house. It was cozy. _This could be a good thing_. He heard her moving around, but decided to stay in the room. He listened as she went upstairs and came back down again. His curiosity was piqued, and he was about to poke his head around the corner when she knocked lightly on the already open door. He gave her an expectant look and she placed a tiny piece of parchment on the dresser and then left. He read it,

“Feel free to settle in, put your clothes away, and look around the house so you know your way. It’s not very big, but you’re more than welcome to familiarize yourself with it. I don’t sit out back often, so it’s all yours if you want to be alone.” She even drew a little heart and a smile at the bottom of her note. 

He left the room, and saw that she had stuck little pieces of parchment on practically every door. He went around to read them. What he assumed to be her bedroom was to the left of “his” room. The note read,

“This is my room. If you need something and I’m in here, you can knock. If it’s nighttime and you need something, please don’t hesitate to wake me up if you can’t find it. I have an organized system for things.”

There was one on the door to the loo,

“I’ve only got one loo, and there aren’t any other toilets or bathrooms. I obviously don’t mind sharing, just please don’t make a mess (not that I think you would). You’re welcome to put whatever you need in here. Also, please don’t lock the door magically or otherwise. If it’s closed, I won’t open it. If you fall and hit your head, I’d rather not have to deal with the door being locked. The same goes for me.” He chuckled at that one.

He ventured into the kitchen and saw one on a cupboard,

“You’re welcome to anything in the cupboards or the refrigerator. Yes, I have a refrigerator, I just like them. I get up early for work so there will most likely be some breakfast left if you’re interested, but you can cook for yourself if you’d like. I’ll probably make dinner myself, unless you’d like to help, which is fine by me. Just let me know if you have allergies or foods you specifically don’t eat. I don’t eat a lot of meat, but fish is fair game. I bake a lot, so help yourself to whatever tickles your fancy. I really, truly don’t mind. (It will also stop me from eating all of it myself and Merlin knows I have no business doing that).” He liked her sense of humor. 

He wanted to see what she wrote about her lab. He wondered what she’d have to say about it,

“I don’t brew as much as I should (sorry about that), but you’re welcome to spend all day in here if you’d like. You’ll see another door in the lab and that is where I store my potions. You can rearrange anything in here (or in the storage closet) to your liking. I just ask that you tell (or write) me  _ if  _ you do, I’m not going to question your organizational methods. I assume you have your own things with you and you’re welcome to keep them in here if you’d like. If there’s anything that I don’t have (or you don’t have with you), feel free to leave me a note by the door and I’ll pick it up after I’m done with work (I’ll understand if you’d prefer to do that yourself and in that case, please leave me a note telling me that you’ve left. It’s not my business where or how long, it’s just so I don’t think you’ve been kidnapped).” He chuckled again. He hadn't known she had this side to her. He felt as though he was learning more about her already.

His next adventure was upstairs and he was most curious about it. He looked at the door of the first room she had showed him,

“What you'll find in here are all either non-fiction books, textbooks, articles, journals, reference books, or others that I have for research or general educational purposes. You’re welcome to use it, please just put them back where you found them. (Unless you’ll come back to it later in which case you can leave anything bookmarked [otherwise I’ll put it back] on the table). I know you’re like me with regard to books so I have no worries about this. No one else is allowed in here.” He felt an odd sense of pride that she trusted him to this room. He was already teeming with ideas about what to read first. He was sure she had an interesting collection. He walked to the door of the other room, even more delighted to learn what this room held. 

Her note continued smoothly from the last,

“This room is most certainly not for research purposes and I ask that you not bring books from either room into the opposite. I’d prefer if the books in these rooms stayed in the rooms, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you taking one to the sitting room or even outside, so long as you handle them with care (I know you would). This room has either fiction, poetry, plays, or other books of some similar general entertainment/leisure purpose. You can fold the sofa up if you want to sit, or roll it out to stretch and relax (I personally enjoy rolling it out so I can spread out and get comfortable). Don’t worry about putting it back the same way as when you came in, I really don’t care. I usually come here for time alone, but we can work out a note system if you’d like to be able to do the same. I don’t mind sharing.” She put another heart at the end of this note.

Her unending kindness continued to astound him. He found that he was sort of excited to see if there were any more notes around, but he didn’t exactly want to be poking around. Severus noticed she was in the sitting room with her nose in a book. He went into the kitchen and did what was the most important thing to do: make some tea. He noticed an odd looking kettle next to her stovetop. He realized that it must be electric. He truly couldn’t be surprised considering that she had a refrigerator, after all. It was easy enough to figure out how to use. He couldn’t deny the small thrill that went through him when the water was boiling and ready. He’d never used an electric one before. He found teacups right above where the kettle had been. Of course her kitchen was meticulously organized as well. It took him all but a few minutes to find her teapot, tea, sugar, and milk. He didn’t know how she took it, but he went for what he thought was an average amount of milk and sugar.

He brought her cup to the sitting room where he made room for it on the table beside her. She looked up and gave him a big smile, mouthing a 'thank you'. He inclined his head toward her and went back into the kitchen to get his cup. He heard a satisfied noise come from the sitting room, and he thought it safe to assume she liked the tea. He sat at her table, which was out of view from where she was sitting, and sipped his tea. When he was finished, Severus washed his cup and put it back before returning to his room. Damn… it sort of was _his_ room though…

There was a note on his door. When had that gotten there? She must have put it there when he was upstairs. It read,

“If you need anything, let me know. I will try to give you your space. I want you to feel welcome and comfortable here. Please make yourself at home. All I ask is that we be civil, and if you need time to be alone and I’m here, please make it clear. Whether that’s staying in your room, going out back, or leaving a note on one of the upstairs doors is up to you (or you could just tell me if that’s easier, but that’s an exception only to you, I won’t break the rule). Oh, and if you need to speak (or write) to me, just call me Hermione. P.S. I don’t mind if you want to eat in your room, no offense will be taken.” Another heart. 

He didn’t bother to suppress a smile as he gently closed his, yes  _ his _ , door. He sat on the bed, wonderfully overwhelmed with all these new choices. Severus felt anxious but content. Hermione clearly wanted him to feel welcome, and he did. She was being very accommodating, and so he concluded that while he needn’t be chipper, he could certainly try not to be his usual murky self. He added that it might actually be a bit easier under these conditions. Strangely enough, he found himself actually looking forward it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, a bit late on the update this week. Not that anyone was necessarily waiting for it though lol.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus saw his bird perch itself on the windowsill right outside of his room. Severus’ eyes went wide, his bird had always been rather clever yet he was still a bit surprised that it had managed to find him. He went over to the window and opened it up. His bird ducked under and jumped onto his arm, already scooting his way up to his shoulder to tug at his hair.

“I didn’t abandon you. You know that, right?” he whispered to the gorgeous black raven on his shoulder. 

The bird’s response was a short and low croaking noise. Severus had come to know these as what he considered Odin’s “love talk”. He hoped Granger hadn’t heard, but at the same time, it was surely going to come up that his bird needed to be here with him as well. He wasn’t worried about it, Odin was well-trained after all. Though Severus was quite content in his new surroundings, he didn’t want to ask for too much, and figured he could wait before asking if it was alright for his bird to stay inside with him. It had been ingrained in him to not ask for too much, and to simply take what was given but understand that it could all be taken away in a moment. He was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard a soft knock on the door. He silently shooed Odin off his shoulder, who seemed to understand and flew out the window, no doubt perching himself on the roof somewhere. Severus walked swiftly to the door and opened it.

“You don’t have to knock, it is  _ your  _ house,” he reminded, realizing he had already broken his “no talking” rule.

“And it’s  _ your  _ room, so I only reserve the right to barge in if there’s an emergency or if I have reason to believe you’re hoarding all the snacks.” Hermione raised a playful eyebrow at him before handing him another note with an apologetic face. He realized it was most likely because she had broken his rule as well. Her note read,

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes if you want to join me. No pressure.” Another damned heart.

He nodded in response, and she smiled brightly at him before returning to her kitchen. This was an unforeseen consequence: how he would be subjected to her unnervingly endless source of kindness and warmth. Granted it wasn’t the worst thing with which one could have to contend, but it did nothing to keep his heart from softening toward her. The only thing that did him in quicker than unsolicited kindness was unconditional and lasting unsolicited kindness. Lily was the only one to ever show him a glimmer of that, and he never thought he’d know it again, and certainly not with such intensity. He had nearly hoped he wouldn’t know it again, because losing it—no—losing her nearly broke him.

He took a moment to compose himself before following in Hermione’s wake, wondering what was for dinner. His astute nose reported that it was lentils, which surprised him. She motioned for him to sit down, and he did. He could feel his mouth watering already, reminiscent of the times his mother had managed to scrape something together for a somewhat complete dinner, yet it had always produced the same effect. He had never stopped appreciating good food. He also hadn’t had someone cook for him in a  _ very _ long time, and he could feel the anxiety starting to wiggle its way into his chest. He didn’t want to be an imposition. He didn’t want her to think she  _ had  _ to cook for him. He didn’t— She looked at him like she wanted to say something. He didn’t want her to think she couldn’t talk in  _ her own  _ house.

“Consider the rule no longer extant,” he offered. She chuckled.

“Do you like lentils?” She asked.

“Quite,” he replied and she smiled that horrendously heart-stopping smile again. What torture. Severus watched carefully as she filled a bowl with soup and put a generous piece of bread on the side. She set it down in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said. 

She softly patted his shoulder as she returned to the stove-top to fill her own bowl. He swore he might have melted on the spot. A home cooked meal and a gentle touch? Had he taken that poison and was now in Heaven? _ Certainly not, they probably wouldn’t allow me in anyway _ . He almost laughed at the prospect. His father was turning in what Severus hoped was his grave. He, of all people, had had the nerve to tell Severus that he’d go to Hell if he didn’t straighten himself out. And by straightening himself out, he meant stop acting “like such a girl.” If only he could see him now. Severus found that he quite preferred the current inability.

Granger unknowingly eased the painful memories with a piping hot bowl of soup, something that he only now remembered could be quite soothing. This seemed to stir up even more childhood memories. After the few times when they had managed to get some meat (per his father’s never-ending request), his mother would use whatever was left over to make a stock. He would never turn down a meal back then, and it was only as he got older and had more choices when he realized that meat tended to turn his stomach. Whether it was a vegetarian tendency, or a Pavlovian response ingrained in him from seeing the way his father devoured it, he didn’t know. He did, however; love his mother’s soups. He often wondered if she secretly used magic to make it taste so good, or if it was simply the lack of consistent meals that made it all that much more enjoyable. 

“Snape?” She murmured.

“Mmm?” He turned his head toward her, she was still standing over the stove.

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

“No, thank you,” he replied.

“You can eat, you know,” she commented casually.

“You’re not yet seated,” he remarked. 

She chuckled, and he turned to see her better. She covered the pot of soup and put the bread away. 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t start eating, I don’t mind,” she assured.

How could she be so nonchalant? Didn’t she know what happened when you started eating before everyone got to the table? He could still feel his skin burn from the time his father had gotten home late and had found that they’d eaten supper without him. It had been past ten when Severus’ bedroom door was slammed open. He could still hear his mother pleading and telling his father that Severus was a growing boy, that he needed to eat something. It didn’t stop the burn and the blister that formed afterward from the cigarette. 

Another soft pat on Severus’ shoulder from Hermione reminded him that he was safe now. He didn’t have to fear for his every move anymore. Things could be okay here, if only for a little while. He would still wait for her to sit before eating, the soup needed to cool slightly anyway. He covertly watched her pour the soup into a container before taking her seat at the table. She smiled at him before gently stirring her spoon around in her bowl, sending little strands of warm steam into the air above it. 

Severus stirred his soup before taking a small spoonful into his mouth. He was certain that he must be in Heaven, how else could this taste so good?  _ What did she put in this? _ It was better than when  _ he _ made it, and to think his mother had taught him  _ her very own _ recipe. His mouth watered at the idea that he had a whole bowl in front of him to eat.  _ And bread! _ Why did he deny himself such delicious sustenance for so long? Had food always been so good?

“Is it good?” She asked tentatively.

“Good?” He was stunned, “That is a severe understatement,” he noted.

“Thank you,” she blushed.

They ate their supper in blissful silence. He noted that the bread had been excellent as well, far better than the stale loaves left over from the market that his mother would sometimes manage to negotiate from the baker. Severus was so grateful for a full stomach and wondered how he could repay Hermione for such kindness. Making her tea had been a decent gesture, but it was just that: a gesture. He wanted to _do_ something. Maybe he could make dinner for _her_ next time. Or get her flowers? Flowers?! A bit too domestic, what was he thinking? _Flowers…_ _honestly_. Before he could bring his bowl to the sink, she had used a charm to send it there.

“Granger,” he started, “I can do that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she insisted.

“Granger,” he gently stopped her with his arm before she had a chance to charm the dishes to wash themselves. She gave him a sweet smile, before she sat herself at the table and opened the Prophet. 

He organized the dishes with ease, he had gotten used to a system after years of cleaning up after himself. His mind could go euphorically blank when he cleaned. It was one of the only times he truly felt at peace without having to Occlude, although he was normally cleaning a lab. He washed each dish and utensil thoroughly and then placed each one on the drying rack in a similarly organized manner. Once he was done, he looked over to see her still reading the Prophet, but she didn’t look up. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything or not, so he resolved to return to his room. Before he made it out of the kitchen, he heard her,

“Thank you, Snape. You don’t have to do that, you know, but thank you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I prefer it,” he replied.

“Well, I won’t tell you no if you want to,” she smiled.

He nodded and turned to head to his room. He hoped Odin would be there. Severus couldn’t wait to tell him how good of a cook Hermione was. He had also been waiting to feed him the small piece of bread that he had discreetly charmed into his pocket. Severus opened his door and closed it quietly behind him. He went over to the open window and whistled lightly. He soon heard the low caws of his beloved familiar.

“There you are,” he whispered lowly to the sleek black bird, “you’re looking well,” he commented, noting how shiny Odin’s feathers had become. Odin’s response was to tug at Severus’ hair as if the reason was obvious.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “to impress a pretty woman hmm? I don’t blame you…Here, I’ve brought something for you.” He stroked Odin’s newly preened feathers as he presented the bird with the piece of bread. It was snatched gratefully from his fingers with another low love-croak. Severus sat on his bed with the bird hopping around on his shoulders. He chuckled and whispered,

“Now what’s gotten you all excited, hmm?”

A loud caw was given in response, indicating Odin’s approval of his owner’s new dwelling. Odin didn’t realize it also alerted said owner of the house. Severus knew she had heard it. He gave a stern look to Odin as he attempted to hide in Severus’ hair. There came the knock on the door. He glared at Odin one last time before getting up to tell her that the ungodly noise she had heard was from his familiar. Which would mean admitting to having a familiar, something he hadn’t had to do in quite some time. Odin was a well kept secret of his. Nevertheless, he opened the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the name of Severus's familiar goes to Emmaficready. I have shamelessly stol- *borrowed*😅 it lol


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh!” Came Hermione’s surprised little shout. Odin cawed back at her, but Severus was worried by the look on Granger’s face that she hadn’t understood the meaning. It had been meant as a friendly greeting (something Odin hadn’t done in a while) and not a threat. She looked at him, the alarm was clear on her face.

“He’s… friendly,” he lied through his teeth. His familiar was anything but friendly, but Severus had a feeling that Odin would be keen to impress her. The damned thing seemed to have the nerve that Severus never did. Odin had done the same thing with Lily...at first.

“Are you?” She asked the bird, stretching her hand out slowly to him.

Severus watched the blasted bird immediately hopped onto her wrist and up her arm to perch on her shoulder. Odin tugged on her hair slightly and sweet-talked her to death, but of course she didn’t know that  _ that _ was what he was doing.

“Awww, you’re sweet aren’t you?” She crooned while delicately stroking the glossy black feathers that were being eagerly presented to her. 

“Hello, handsome,” came Odin’s deep voice, sounding uncannily like Severus’.

“Oh my goodness,” Hermione blushed, “and you speak too?” She chuckled.

“You bastard,” Odin replied lovingly in the same deep Severus-like voice. Hermione nearly doubled over in laughter, yet Odin stayed determinedly on her shoulder and ruffled his feathers.

“You say that to him often?” Hermione laughed. He could feel heat start to gather in his face.

“Well… he is…” Severus insisted.

“Awww, no you’re not, right, cutie?” She asked  _ his _ bird.

Odin continued to click and clack happily in Granger’s ear, such a showoff. She encouraged it as well, praising him and stroking his head when he’d bend it down toward her. Severus became highly aware of all the words and phrases Odin could undoubtedly repeat to Granger should he desire. With the bird being as openly affectionate to her as he was, Severus didn’t doubt that it would be long before the feathered beast would want to flaunt his vocabulary. 

“Quit harassing her, come here you,” he ordered the bird who very clearly was not about to listen to him.

“He’s not harassing me, he’s being sweet,” she giggled as Odin tugged on a curl.

“He’s a pest,” Severus claimed. Odin, of course, had a response to that,

“Fucking hell.” Hermione’s laughs rang throughout the house. “You bastard,” Odin repeated.

“I cannot believe how much he sounds like you,” she chuckled, regaining her breath.

“They’re good at… impressions…” he supplied.

“Quite good,” she added absentmindedly as she continued to stroke Odin’s feathers.

He was almost glad that she was too engrossed with his bird to notice the slight blush that he had felt creep onto his face. She was very gentle with him, but Severus was rather surprised that Odin  _ wanted _ to be pet. Not to mention Odin usually looked as though he’d fallen into a cobweb full of dust. Now he was shiny and… dare he say, actually good looking? Severus kept himself from drawing any similarities between him and his familiar. There was a clear difference. That being he was a human and his familiar was a bird. Perhaps the bird merely took after him in that he decided to like whoever Severus liked. It wasn’t that many people, and he wasn't aware that he liked Granger enough to merit these actions from his familiar. He wondered if Odin knew something he didn’t.  _ No, of course not, the pesky thing had merely found someone he actually liked. _ That seemed to be the only rational explanation. Granger had a sort of reputation for being exceedingly kind and not just to people, but to all creatures whether they were magical or not. He supposed the clever bird could sense it. Severus wasn’t willing to accept any other reason. 

“And how old are you, handsome?” She asked the bird as if she would ask a toddler, clearly waiting for Severus to answer for him.

“He’s twenty-seven,” Severus answered in the best monotone he could manage. 

“Ohh, you’re older than I am, huh?” She murmured before looking up at him with those eyes, “when did you get him?”

He scoffed at the idea of revealing his age to her. Not that it mattered. Not that an age difference between them meant anything, it wasn’t as though they were... involved. 

“Quite a long time ago,” he supplied.

“I’m assuming you got him for school?”

“Yes.”

“Was he an adult when you got him? He looks quite healthy.”

“He was a chick.”

“Merlin, wow! Where did you get him?” Her curiosity was apparent.

He didn’t exactly want to explain that Odin was the cheapest option possible for a familiar. Or that he had nearly been set into the wild had Severus not picked him out. Or that he’d been malnourished and nearly dead because the store owner didn’t have any hope for him. How could he explain that the mother had died, along with most of the other chicks? How could he explain that he didn’t want to see the poor thing die and had begged his mother to ask the shopkeeper if the chick was for sale? 

“There was a shop in Diagon Alley at the time. It’s not there anymore, thank Merlin. The old man that ran it was a pain,” He divulged. Hermione chuckled,

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen chicks for sale, mostly adult owls and only rarely  _ another _ species,” she explained.

“No, it’s not common. Ravens tend to be more… independent… Owls are generally more subordinate and easier to work with, hence the popularity,” he concluded.

“Ohh, I suppose that makes sense. Hadn’t thought of it that way. Well then this handsome boy is extra special,” she crooned into Odin’s feathers.

Odin obviously enjoyed the display of affection and was strutting up and down her arms and across her shoulders. She was also enjoying his little show considering the wide smile on her face. Severus wasn’t quite sure how to continue. He didn’t exactly  _ enjoy _ seeing his familiar getting cozy with Granger. A twinge of jealousy brought on a wave of shame. He shouldn’t think that way about her. He abruptly scooped Odin off her shoulder and suffered multiple hard nips because of it. He would cuss the bird out later, a habit that he realized had led to his eventual embarrassment moments earlier. He couldn’t quite tell if his fingers were bleeding, and he didn’t care so long as he could get the damn bird away from her. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. Yet she didn’t seem to know as much about ravens as she did owls. She gave him a pitiful look before letting him sweep away his familiar.

“What exactly are you getting at?” He hissed at Odin when Granger was out of earshot, “are you trying to blatantly advertise that I care for her? That’s not a part of the plan you feathered menace.”

Odin merely cawed indignantly at him, attempting to amputate another one of Severus’ fingers. He dismissed the bird entirely, flopping himself down on the bed and wondered how this had become his life. It wasn’t too bad, and he certainly couldn’t complain. He had a bed, a roof over his head, plenty of food, and two beautiful libraries to which she had given him access, and that’s not to mention that she  _ also  _ gave him free rein in her laboratory. Why then, did he have this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach? He wanted to push it aside and call it “old habits”, and of course he knew what people said about those, but why did it insist on pervading every inch of his life? Could he not simply be happy without the constant looming feeling of death and rejection? Was that too much for him to ask?

Tired of his own thoughts, Severus decided to take a shower and attempt to get some sleep. He knew it would be just as fruitless of an endeavor as it always was. He summoned a pair of pajamas and headed for her loo which was blissfully unoccupied. He hadn’t given a second thought about sharing, but he was highly aware that there may come a time when their timing wouldn’t be ideal. He was thankful that tonight was not that time. He avoided the mirror as he slipped out of his clothes. Not caring if the water was like ice, he got in immediately. At the least it would be a distraction from his own thoughts. He wondered what time she went to bed, if she’d still be up when he was done. 

The time slipped by while Severus was in the shower, but he never took very long. He toweled off and got changed. He was going to have to wash his pajamas quite often considering he only had two long sleeved shirts. Not only did he loathe the idea of anyone seeing him in anything less than what he normally wore, but he’d rather cut off his arm than have her see his Mark. It would be worth doing extra laundry. 

Severus went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Tea would be another waste. He heard pages rustling from her sitting room.  _ So she was still up? _ He sipped his water and walked around the corner, leaning against the wall. She had on glasses and her hair was pulled up messily. Every part of him knew he ought to go to bed and not bother her or look at her or think about her. Something else made him stay. She looked so… peaceful, and so… beautiful? He shook the thought from his mind, it certainly did not belong there. She looked up at him and he was immediately terrified that she’d somehow heard his thoughts. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, you’re up,” she greeted, a soft smile played on her lips. Why did he want to scoop her up and sit down in that chair with her in his arms? What a ridiculous thought.

“So are you,” he replied.

“Make yourself comfortable” she offered, gesturing to the sofa across from her.

He nodded slightly, not trusting his voice to not sound overly eager. She smiled, oh Merlin, she smiled at  _ him _ . What had he done to deserve  _ that _ ? He slid his Occlumency shield into place, unsure of his ability to feign calmness. He didn’t know what to do other than sit and slowly sip at his water. It would be gone soon, and then he wouldn’t have a reason to stay. He so badly wanted to stay. She put a bookmark in her book and set it on the table.

“So,” she turned toward him and his mouth went dry, “how’s your day been?”

“Agreeable, and yours?” He knew he wasn’t good at small talk. He tried to avoid it at every juncture.

“Good, I hope you’re settling in well?”

“Yes, it’s… nice.” 

“Glad you like it,” she smiled.

“What are you reading?” he inquired.

“Hogwarts, A History,”. He raised his eyebrow at her, had she not already read that thing fifty times over while she was  _ in  _ school?

“It relaxes me,” she saw the look on his face, “yes I know, but I can read this and not have to think, it helps. Can’t fall asleep without it sometimes…” she trailed off as she brushed invisible dust from the arm of her chair.

“That’s understandable.” He hadn’t meant to be critical. She gave him a soft smile.

“What do you like to read? In your free time, I mean,” she asked.

“Other than rereading potions journals or articles, there are a few dissertations and editorials on which I’ve meant to catch up-”

“No, I meant unrelated to potions. I don’t mean to insinuate that there’s anything wrong with reading about it for fun. I figured you must read other things?”

“Ah,” he paused. That was somewhat private, but then again he was private about everything. “Fiction or nonfiction?” he queried.

“Both.”

“In a short list: Hugo, Shelley, Byron, or Hawthorne for fiction. Granted, most of the nonfiction I read is either for academic or research purposes and so the list becomes extensive,” he concluded.

“Byron is an arse.”

“This is true, but his works aren’t half bad.”

“You say, Shelley, I should hope you mean Mary.”

“Who else is worth the name?” he smirked at her, unsure of how this bout of confidence had come to be. She smiled back at him.

“I quite like Daphne du Maurier, my mum was obsessed. I think I caught on,” she chuckled.

“Jamaica Inn was wonderful, but the ending left something to be desired. Rather unsatisfying, but I’d say the rest of the novel negates that,” Severus commented.   
“Ooh that one is my favorite, and I agree. She could have simply gone back home and made a life for herself.”

“Jem is a prat if there’s ever been one. She deserved better, if not her own peaceful solitude.”

“I could not agree more. You know, we ought to talk more about this, if you’re interested that is, but I’m going to have to call it a night. I’m knackered,” she remarked.

“Surely, another time,” he agreed.

“Goodnight,” she waved.

“Goodnight, Granger.” She stopped in her tracks and sleepily pointed a playfully warning finger at him,

“Hermione,” she smiled.

“Hermione,” he reiterated lowly.

He tried not to notice her long legs ambling back to her room. He tried not to think of her sitting next to him, reading with him, her head on his shoulder.  _ A stupid fantasy _ , he reminded himself. Entirely unnecessary, not to mention inappropriate. He scolded himself thoroughly while washing his glass and putting it back. The tirade of self-admonition continued well into the night until he wore himself out. 

When Severus woke up, there was a horrendous amount of light in the room. He had good reason to suspect that’s what had woken him up in the first place. His irritation was swiftly soothed by the smell of breakfast that had wafted into his room. Groggily, he sat up and slid on his thin slippers. He ran a hand through his hair before opening the door. He saw her, apron and all, busying herself in the kitchen. He wanted to wrap her up in a hug- wait no, no he very much didn’t. No, thank you. He was just hungry, that made more sense. He walked down the hall, curious to see what had produced such a mouthwatering scent. 

“Good morning,” she beamed when she saw him. _ Merlin, maybe the best way to a man’s heart really wasn’t through the fourth and fifth ribs _ , he pondered.

“Morning,” he replied stiffly, “what ungodly time is it?” he asked.

“It’s just a bit past seven,” she chuckled.

“Sweet hell,” he groaned, rubbing his face.

“What time do you normally wake up?” she giggled. He hated that giggle so much that it felt like his heart was melting. She was unbearable with her tinkling laughter and her soft curly hair and those sweet brown eyes.  _ Damn it all _ .

“Merlin, definitely after eight,” he answered, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

“Eggs?” she offered.

“Oh,” he was not prepared to answer. She must have seen the trepidation in his face.

“Help yourself to whatever you want. I won’t take offense if you’d prefer something else. There should be enough here for you too, though,” she explained before removing her apron.

She grabbed a plate and proceeded to sit down at the table, apparently waiting for him. He was still in his pajamas, was he supposed to eat with her like this? He didn’t want to keep her waiting so he took a plate and sat down across from her. 

“Still tired?”

“Mmph,” he replied with his head in his hand.

“Coffee?”

“Merlin yes, please,” he paused, “thank you… you didn’t have to-”

“It’s my pleasure,” she reassured. He felt his face getting warm and subsequently buried it in his hands once more. It was a few minutes before she set down a steaming mug next to his plate.

“I don’t know how you take it. I haven’t put anything in.”

“This is just fine, thank you,” he replied, knowing he was going to regret not having any sugar in it. It would have to do for now, he couldn’t bring himself to ask anything else of her.

“Sure thing.”

They once again ate in a comfortable silence, until her owl swooped in and gave her the  _ Prophet _ . She murmured a word of thanks to the beautiful barn owl that nibbled at her finger. She skimmed over the paper and tossed it aside.

“I’ve got to run,” she spoke as she brought her plate to the sink, “see you later,” she patted his shoulder gently and pulled on her coat and shoes before she left. He couldn’t stand it. The softness of her touch, the ease of her words, her kindness. It stung like cold water on a burn. He didn’t know what to do about it.  _ Ah, dinner _ . He remembered this previous quandary. He resolved to make dinner for  _ her _ tonight. Yet now he had to think of what she might like. She already made soup, and it had been  _ very  _ good, but soup was off the table. She had left a note saying she didn’t eat much meat, so that would be helpful. Suddenly, genius struck him! He had the perfect idea, and he’d have to pick up the ingredients on his way home.

The day passed at a snail’s pace for Severus. He was normally content to brew and bustle around in the lab while he bottled and organized everything, but his head was elsewhere. For once, he couldn’t wait to finish brewing. He was practically  _ excited  _ to go buy groceries, it was entirely unlike him. This level of change in his behavior had shaken him thoroughly. Perhaps he owed Odin an apology, and perhaps that bloody bird had had a point. When Severus couldn’t take it anymore, he forced himself to go for a walk. It was a beautiful day, after all.

Severus found himself pleasantly lost among the sweeping trees and vibrant wildflowers that sprouted up everywhere. A sweet breeze floated through the air and caught his hair. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such a beautiful day. The odd birdsong felt like music that rang through him. The warm sun made a habit of peeking out from behind the clouds to say hello. He watched a squirrel scurry up an oak tree and felt compelled to stare in awe of the adorable little creature. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when did he care about the weather? Enjoy the sun? Not abhor the sound of birds tweeting incessantly? He had nearly lost his bearings before realizing that he ought to head back. He knew that he could easily apparate, but the grossly happy part of him wanted to enjoy the weather longer.

He tried to lose himself within the book, anything to get her off his mind. He couldn’t be tamed by potions journals nor the newest research articles. He tried Emerson, then Thoreau, then Byron. To no avail. Nothing could ease the trammel of  _ her _ , she was simply everywhere. On top of it all, he was in her house! Where could he go, or what could he do that didn’t remind him of her? He felt as though he was losing his mind, hopelessly devoted bit by hopelessly devoted bit. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , he decided it wasn’t too soon to go out and get the groceries. He checked through her cupboards to see what he would need. He set out to get what he needed. All he needed was the spinach, feta cheese, and dill. He had the recipe playing through his head as he Apparated back to her house. He wasn’t sure when exactly she would be home, but he was sure that he’d have it finished in time for dinner. It would only take him an hour and a half to make, and he started right away. He made the dough from scratch, a lesson learned studiously by watching his grandmother. She had always said it was a great shame to buy it pre-made when it was easy enough to make.  _ Easy  _ might have been an overstatement, but he understood the sentiment of making it by hand. After he made the dough and rolled it out, he started to prepare the filling. After sautéing the onions and adding the garlic, he mixed in the cheese as well as the rest of the ingredients. He layered the mix onto the dough and put it in the oven. It would be ready in an hour, so it would be ready whenever she came home.

Severus decided to take a quick walk down her street to find those pretty wildflowers. He gathered up a bundle and brought them back to put in a vase. He set them on the table and turned on her radio.  _ Beneath the milky twilight, lead me out on a moonlight floor _ rang softly through the kitchen as he waited with bated breath for her arrival. The fireflies were dancing silver moon sparkling as he heard the door open. He could breathe. 


	8. Chapter 8

He couldn’t wait and he walked to the front door to greet her.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, “oooh, what smells so good?” she asked.

“Dinner,” he replied while helping her out of her coat.

“You made dinner!” she beamed, “thank you so much. I was so worried that I was going to have to come home and tell you I had no plans. You’re the best!” She planted a kiss on his cheek as she excitedly strolled into the kitchen.

He was frozen in place. Surely that hadn't just happened. The only thing that pulled him out of his stupor was the worry that he would burn the beautiful spanakopita he had just made, oh, and her calling him from the kitchen.

“Alright there?” she asked, bemused.

“Fine… it should be ready soon.”

“Mmmm, what is it?”

“Spanakopita.”

“Oh! I love that! How’d you know?” she winked at him, “Oh and this song, I love this song. Snape?” she asked. Worry came over him. What could be wrong?

“Yes?”

“Did you get these?” she asked, leaning her head over the flowers to breathe in their ethereal scent.

“Mmm, yes.”

“Where? They’re beautiful,” she remarked.

“I… er… picked them…”

“You did?” her cheeks had become pink and she had the most dangerous look in her eyes. She looked like she might hug him. Then she did.

“You’re wonderful, and not just because you made dinner and picked flowers,” she stated with her arms wrapped firmly around his torso. He gathered the nerve to reciprocate, which seemed to only encourage her further. He swore that he could have melted into a puddle right then and there. He was scared that his legs wouldn’t be able to support him if she kept that up any longer. Right when he was sure he couldn’t take anymore, she pulled away and smiled up at him. If a smile could kill, he would have dropped to the floor. He was done for, and there was no turning back now. He remembered similar feelings, but not quite the same. He hadn’t ever felt like this before, but the closest he’d ever gotten was when he was with Lily. She could always make him smile, and she always knew just what to say. 

Granger was turning out to be the same way, yet Severus was feeling something different. He was terrified of her, of saying the wrong thing, or doing the wrong thing. He couldn’t stand Granger; her beautiful smile, her perfect hair, her sweet voice. The way she could undo him with a touch, he hated it. He hated that someone could have that effect on him. He had to pull himself away from his own nagging thoughts and take dinner out of the oven.

“That looks so good!” she praised, “what dough did you use?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what did you use? I’ve used Theos before, but this doesn’t look like it.”

“Oh Merlin no, I made it,” he drew his brows together.

“You did?! Oh my gosh, I don’t have the patience, and it’s so difficult. How did you  _ do  _ that?” she questioned.

“It’s fairly simple. You only need a few ingredients, the right amount of water, and a decent technique,” he explained.

“Well I clearly lack the technique, and water? I didn’t know that was  _ that _ important.”

“Oh yes, a few extra drops can make or break the dough.”

“I didn’t know that! That’s so interesting, oh I’m so excited to try it,” she smiled.

He took that as his cue to start cutting it into pieces for them. He took a plate and put a generous helping on it for her, having no idea how hungry she was. He handed it to her and she began to devour it with her eyes before even tasting it.

“Thank you!”

He served himself a slice and sat down across from her. He could get used to this, despite everything in him telling him to not. He watched carefully as she cut into her piece, blowing gently on it. He felt his chest swell with pride when her eyes rolled back as she took her first bite.

“Mmmm… Snape… oh, Merlin… that is so good,  _ how  _ did you make it so good? I’ve never been able to make it this well!”

He did everything he could to not commit her moan and mention of his name to memory, and instead tried desperately to focus his attention to her question.

“Practice,” he advised.

“Where did you learn to make this?” she asked, still in disbelief.

“I watched my grandmother,” he divulged. He wasn’t quite sure why he said it, but it was the truth.

“That’s so sweet, so did she let you help her make it?” she continued. Now she was getting into personal territory, but he’d be damned if he didn’t give her anything that she wanted.

“No, actually. She was rather independent in the kitchen… but she let me watch her make it. I committed every movement to memory,” he confessed.

“My mum is like that too,” she chuckled, “but my dad would always let me cook with him.”

“You don’t talk about your parents much,” he observed.

“Well I suppose it hasn’t come up much,” she smiled, “but I think they’d love you. They really like to cook. Well, it’s my mom who likes to cook, and they both argue about who gets to bake,” she recalled with a nostalgic expression, “what about your parents? Do you have one who prefers to cook?” she asked.

It was an innocent enough question, but she didn’t know the pain that came with the memory of his parents. She didn’t know what it had been like. He didn’t want to talk about it, ever. Despite the realization that he’d do whatever she wanted, he didn’t want her to know how he’d grown up. The shame that he carried.

“My mum cooked… there was never a discussion about it,” he admitted.

“Ah, I see. I hope it was her choice and not some patriarchal expectation?” she asked. Her tone soothed his worries, but he was still anxious to admit it.

“The latter, I’m afraid.”

“Bogus, but was she okay with it anyway?”

“I suppose so…”

“Hrm, did your dad at least cook on occasion?”

“One would think, but of course that’s a woman’s job isn’t it?” he mocked.

“Ugh, I hate that… sorry, I don’t mean to speak poorly of your father-”

“Oh no, by all means,” he offered. She took the offer, and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

“I hate it when men treat women like it’s their job to take care of them, it’s fucking inane. Excuse my language-”

“You’re justified in your choice of language.” She smiled appreciatively and continued,

“It’s so self-entitled and…” she paused.

“Sexist? Archaic? Disrespectful and disgraceful?” he suggested. 

“Absolutely, any one of those. I’m so glad you see it the same way.”

“Of course, I’ll never understand why she allowed him to treat her that way….” He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to be so open, but she was so understanding.

“Some people feel obligated to stay, and some don’t know any better. It’s a sad reality, some women are conditioned to simply take it.”

“I suppose so, it’s just so…” he didn’t know how to continue, “it makes me sick,” he concluded.

“I know how you feel. I’m sorry you had to experience that. If that’s how he treated your mom, I can’t imagine you got along very well?”

“An understatement.”

“I’m so sorry, the both of you deserved better,” she avowed. It nearly brought tears to his eyes. No one, not even his mother, had said the words that he had needed to hear his entire life.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

He washed the dishes when they were done eating which incited more smiles and affectionate words from her. They chatted at the table about potions and runes and everything they could think of until she yawned.

“Is it that time already?” he asked, secretly disappointed that the hours had passed so quickly.

“Mmm, sadly,” she responded sleepily.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he promised.

“But I’m not  _ that  _ tired,” she protested. He suppressed a chuckle, was she trying to stay up later so she could talk to him? How novel.

“Maybe so, but don’t you have work tomorrow?” he inquired.

“I don’t have to go in early, my shift got moved,” she yawned once more.

“Which means you can have a lie in, so you ought to go to bed,” he reasoned.

“Then I have to say goodnight,” she complained, standing up and coming around to him to rest her arms on his shoulders, and her head on top of his. With every bit of courage, he allowed one of his hands to cover hers, silently reveling in her friendly closeness.

“What a tragedy,” he played.

“It really is, how can you ever forgive me,” she joked along with him.

“I suppose I will simply have to, if I ever wish to continue such lovely conversation with you.” He shocked himself with his own boldness.

“Awww, how sweet. Maybe I can make it up to you,” she jested.

“That would be agreeable.”

She kissed the side of his head and bid him a sweet, “goodnight, Snape,” before strolling back to her bedroom, leaving him smiling like a fool in her kitchen. She was dangerous. She was everything good in the world. She was smart, ambitious, honest, and kind. She would be the death of him, but to die because of her; such a heavenly way to die. 

“Goodnight, Granger.”

“Hermione,” she corrected.

“Hermione,” he muttered under the breath that had been stolen from him.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

Severus stayed up, sitting in Hermione's dimly lit kitchen. He was far too awake to even think of sleep. She had seemingly wiped every pain from his heart, every doubt from his mind, leaving him feeling light and… happy? Was it really a surprise? The way she could carry on a conversation without lull had captivated him. She was even smarter than he had remembered. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of her. He loved listening to her. For once he didn’t have to be stuck in his own mind, drowning in thoughts. She was a beacon of light. Her words were a salve for his aching mind. He wondered how long he would be able to carry on this way. How many more days could he bear with her infernal benevolence? As the moon became high in the night sky, he felt his eyelids start to droop. Perhaps sleep would come for him after all.

Severus woke up the next morning feeling wonderful. He couldn’t remember having slept so well in his entire life. At the same time, there were many nights to exclude considering sleep hadn’t been found in them. He stretched and yawned, breathing in the most wonderful aroma that drifted in from the kitchen yet again. He walked down the hall to see the same beautiful image of Hermione fluttering about the kitchen. She hardly noticed when he leaned against the wall to watch her. 

“Morning,” he greeted.

“You’re up,” she smiled.

“That smells incredible.”

“Yeah? Hungry?”

“I am now,” he chuckled.

“Good, there’s plenty,” she assured, “I’ve put a plate out for you,” she gestured to the plate in his spot at her table.  _ His  _ spot? Sounded dangerous. 

“Thank you.” He brought his plate to the stovetop and served himself. 

When they had finished eating, Severus washed the dishes by hand yet again. She thanked him and retired to her sitting room, undoubtedly picking up a book in which she would promptly lose herself. After the dishes were thoroughly cleaned, he went into the sitting room where his theory proved to be true. He found a book and settled himself on the sofa across from her, hoping she wouldn’t mind the company. He caught a brief glance from her. She was smiling. His heart was set ablaze. He had no idea how much time had elapsed before she spoke,

“Oh well, I’m off to work. See you later!”

“Indeed,” he responded, trying to sound unaffected. He was helpless after she placed a quick kiss to the top of his head, feeling a deep blush come to his cheeks as well as a smile. She took no offense to this, merely smiling at him and waving goodbye. Once she left, he buried his nose back into the book, hoping to banish his own embarrassment in the depths of the pages, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words in front of him. He finally put the book down, frustrated with himself.

Severus spent the rest of the day whining internally at her absence. He was also starting to wonder when they were going to discuss the length of his stay. He supposed he could bring it up when she returned. Until then, he would impatiently pace around the house, trying to find something to do. When it started to get dark was when he started to worry. Was she working late? Did something happen? Was she safe? He heard her voice out of nowhere.

“Snape!”

“Granger?” Was she outside? He went to the door and opened it to find no one there. He could not lose his mind right now. He had to make sure she was okay. Something was wrong. Something had happened. He just knew. He could feel it.

“Snape!” she called out to him.

“Granger!” The panic was rising in him, where was she? Why could he hear her but not see her? His vision started to get fuzzy. Was there something wrong with him? What was happening? He kept hearing her call his name and he felt dizzy. He tried to find her but he couldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot. What was happening? The room started fading out of his view. It didn’t feel real. None of it was real.

* * *

Hermione said his name over and over, hoping it could bring him back. If she could just get him to hear her, maybe he wouldn’t leave. She was definitely going back to therapy after this. She was never getting the image of her dying former potions professor out of her head. She had found the vial on the floor and taken it with her when she Apparated both of them to Mungo’s. The worst had been true, she had hoped it wasn’t. He was sat in a worn out armchair when she found him; a teacup shattered on the floor. The floor around the teacup was sizzling, as though it was being eaten by acid. This had sent a second jolt of panic through her.

Hermione had spent three days at Mungo’s in his room. Granted, she worked there, but she spent every waking minute possible by his side. She hadn’t told anyone that she had brought him in, she had figured that no one had expected to see him again anyway. He hadn’t even left a note. A fresh wave of tears overcame her as she realized that he probably thought no one would have read it anyway. She buried her face in his chest. His breathing had stopped just a minute ago. In her shocked state, she had yelled at the Healers to help him, to wake him up, to make him come back to her. There was nothing left to do. The poison had taken its course. That’s what they told her. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it, not after the wonderful days they had spent together.

The other Healers at Mungo’s didn’t bother to question her authority when she decided to initially invade the patient’s mind. She was so hopeful that if she could show him what he’d miss, that he would stay. She had a perfectly crafted fantasy that she played out. She knew he was still there, he had to be- and he was. She knew he had been so happy, she could feel it. He’d even helped her create their little world without realizing it. He had created his clothes, his familiar, and he had even  _ left the house _ ! And came back! She knew it wasn’t real, but it _felt_ so real. It was real to her. 

She mourned what could have been. She mourned something that she lost despite never having it to begin with. She mourned him and all his pain. Everything that had led up to that decision. He didn’t deserve it, he deserved so much better. She wasn’t so bold as to assume  _ she  _ could give him that, but she had seen how happy he was. He even  _ liked  _ her. He wanted to talk to her, to listen to her, to just  _ be _ with her. Now she had lost all of it. No- she wouldn’t accept it. She wouldn’t let this be the end for him, especially now that she knew he could be happy. She would do anything for him to be happy.

Hermione ran. She knew there was a cupboard in the antidote lab. A cupboard which contained antidotes that they had never needed to use. She reminded herself to fire the Healers who had said there was nothing to be done; if this worked, that is. She slammed open the cupboard, startling the others in the lab. She rifled around, careful not to cause any of them to fall out. She saw it. She never thought… and to think he brewed such a poison… it nearly made her sick. She sprinted back to his room. Three minutes since his last breath. She forced his mouth open, she’d heal whatever hurt later.  _ If it hurt _ . She tipped the antidote into his mouth, stroking his neck firmly to direct it down. The whole vial.

She waited, hands clenched onto the blanket covering him.  _ Please please please _ .

“I need you, Snape,” she pleaded tearfully, “and I want to try your spinach pie,” she rested her head back down on his chest, sobbing silently.

Severus gasped, eyes wide. He was awake.

“Hermione,” he breathed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done! I hope you've enjoyed my story! 💚 I am working on a sequel and hope to have it finished within a reasonable time😅

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it! :)
> 
> And a special thank you to all the people that helped me while I wrote this: Chrissy, Ami, and Mersheeple (my wonderful and sweet betas), Moonstone281💎, Turtle_Wexler, Dreidueuno, hellofauniverse, and naomijameston 💚 Thank you all so much! This wouldn't have happened without you and I am so grateful to you for being patient with me through this.


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